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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29210916">It's The Thought</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticyclone/pseuds/anticyclone'>anticyclone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, M/M, Post-Canon, Presents, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:15:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,424</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29210916</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticyclone/pseuds/anticyclone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A delivery man leaves a package at the bookshop door. It only takes the better part of an evening before Aziraphale lets Crowley look at what's inside the box.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chocolate Box - Round 6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It's The Thought</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinlizzy2/gifts">thinlizzy2</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley slid sideways into the bookshop, as if barely cracking the door open would somehow keep Aziraphale from noticing his arrival.</p><p>It had always been nearly impossible (nearly) to open any bookshop door or window without Aziraphale noticing, unless it was open hours for customers (in which case most perimeter-based miracles ceased to function), the person entering was another angel (which obviously didn't apply when the person was Crowley), or Aziraphale was particularly drunk. And usually if Aziraphale was particularly drunk, Crowley was already inside the bookshop, so it didn't matter.</p><p>He normally wouldn't have cared about sneaking, either. At some point in the past century Aziraphale had given him a key. Crowley had never used it. He preferred to snap his fingers, glare the locks open, or wait for Aziraphale to pull on the door handle himself. But tonight was special. Tonight, he had it on good authority that Aziraphale was hiding a gift for Crowley, and that it was somewhere on the bookshop premises.</p><p>The good authority was a vaguely familiar man who'd almost hit Crowley with an International Express delivery truck as Crowley emerged abruptly from the shadows to jaywalk across the corner outside the bookshop.</p><p>"Be careful where you step, sir!" the delivery man had shouted, leaning out of his window as Crowley stepped onto the sidewalk.</p><p>The truck's headlamps couldn't light up his face from the sidewalk, so Crowley made sure to sink a sliver of demonic power into his expression when he'd turned his head to glower at the man. It should have made his eyes glow ominously from behind his glasses. Not enough to give away exactly what he was, but enough to startle.</p><p>The delivery man was apparently slow to startle. He frowned and tapped the door of his vehicle. "You don't want to get hit by one of these things, you don't know how awful it is," he'd warned Crowley.</p><p>"Point taken," Crowley told him. He had smiled just enough to show the tips of fangs, but even that didn't wave the delivery man off.</p><p>"If you're going to the bookshop, I'm afraid you'll find that it's closed. I just left a package, no signature required, for a Mr. Anthony, and..." The driver frowned, and Crowley followed where he was looking. If there had just been a package at the front step of the bookshop, it wasn't there now. There was also a tiny yellow light glowing from deep inside the shop, well past the windows. Aziraphale had stirred himself long enough to grab the package and yank it back inside.</p><p>Trust Aziraphale to leave Crowley to chat with the human.</p><p>"Looks like it's open now," Crowley had said.</p><p>Then he'd waited for the delivery truck to trundle off into the night and well away from the shop before slinking around to the back door. Aziraphale would be expecting him from the front, after all. And Aziraphale had a poor grasp of how long a human could trap a demon in casual conversation.</p><p>Crowley figured he had at least a couple of minutes to scope out the shop and try to catch a peek of whatever it was Aziraphale had ordered in his name.</p><p>He got all the way into the back hall by Aziraphale's office before he heard Aziraphale pointedly clearing his throat.</p><p>Crowley spun on one heel, raised both eyebrows, and said: "Hi."</p><p>"I suspect you thought the front door was locked," Aziraphale said, mildly. He paused for just a fraction of a moment before raising his angel-wing mug to his lips and taking a sip. Privately Crowley thought the gesture would be more condemning if the substance in the mug was actually tea and not (as Crowley could smell) hot cocoa. But Aziraphale had his glasses perched at the end of his nose and had caught Crowley in the middle of sneaking around like a wet-behind-the-ears junior demon, and Crowley knew when to pick his battles.</p><p>"Thought I'd change things up a little," Crowley said. He started to lean casually against the nearest wall, discovered that there was a four-foot tall pile of books in the way, and quickly course-corrected to stretching his arms above his head and yawning. "See how the other side of the shop was doing."</p><p>"Must have made for a neat way to excuse yourself from talking with the delivery man," Aziraphale reasoned, like someone who had not avoided answering his own front door to keep from having to do just that.</p><p>"He left of his own accord, thank you. Probably a busy night of … delivering packages."</p><p>"Likely to meet a lot of interesting people that way." Aziraphale's tone suggested this was not a fate he would wish on an enemy, and Crowley reflected that really, it was the little things that made you love a person.</p><p>Maybe, in another thousand years or so, he'd figure out how to tell Aziraphale as much.</p><p>Together they meandered out of the back hall and over to the comfortable seats tucked behind the cash register. Crowley sprawled sideways on the couch. Aziraphale had already poured him a glass of wine. Crowley knew it was for him because as Aziraphale settled into his chair, he continued sipping on his hot cocoa.</p><p>Crowley talked about an article he had read on the physics of traffic jams. Apparently just one person tapping on their breaks could create a slow-down that spread out all through traffic behind them, making a bottleneck for absolutely no reason at all. He'd spent all week practicing and he thought he'd gotten it down pretty well. Aziraphale discussed the estate sale he'd patronized earlier that day and how some of these newer booksellers were too eager for their own good. He'd managed to miss out on the volume he really wanted, but he did get a few paperbacks for the discreet shop next door, and once he'd gone through them for damage he'd send the books over.</p><p>Neither of them brought up the delivery man again, or why he would have stopped outside the bookshop after sunset on a weeknight. Snakes weren't prone to fidgeting, so Crowley had no problem relaxing into his sprawl and, eventually, balancing his wine glass on his stomach while humming along with the record Aziraphale had put on. Somewhere along the way he'd gotten both drunk and animated enough to toss his sunglasses aside. He thought they might be under the couch.</p><p>"Oh, that reminds me," Aziraphale said, apparently in response to Crowley's humming. He stood up. "I have something for you," he said, and disappeared into the back of the shop before Crowely could espouse surprise.</p><p>By the time he returned, Crowley had sat upright and put his wine glass back on the table.</p><p>He had not been lucky enough to rediscover his sunglasses (maybe they were <i>inside</i> the couch?), so hopefully the anticipation wasn't too apparent on his face.</p><p>The box Aziraphale carried was small. He must have removed it from its outer packaging, because it was plain white cardboard and bore no shipping label. When Aziraphale placed it into Crowley's outstretched hand, the cardboard felt smooth, but nothing out of the ordinary. Crowley tilted his hand from side to side, trying to shift the box's weight. Whatever was inside was too light to give away its secrets, and Aziraphale had clasped his hands together and was giving Crowley a keen look, so Crowley gave in and flipped the lid open.</p><p>Inside was a ring.</p><p>Crowley held very still.</p><p>The ring was made of thin gold, twisted over several times to create a wide band, with the end piece slithering out from between two loops of the band. The end piece broadened before tapering to a thin snout. The only gemstones in the ring were set on opposite edges of the broadest part of the gold head: two ruby eyes, winking up at Crowley in the warm bookshop light. A snake ring, entwined with itself, the band just large enough (Crowley could tell without checking) to fit on his finger.</p><p>"I confess I actually purchased it closer to the turn of the century," Aziraphale said. He did not add: <i>During the period when we weren't speaking.</i> He didn't have to. "But then I rather forgot about it, until after Armaggeddon, well, didn't. I was recommended a trustworthy jeweler to clean it. Just got it back tonight."</p><p>"It's for… me?" Crowley asked, despite the fact that Aziraphale had already said as much.</p><p>Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. He had finished his cocoa some time before and now poured himself a fresh glass of wine. "I already have a ring, my dear," he pointed out.</p><p>This kind of thing had been popular with the English after Victoria started gallivanting around with a snake ring of her own. Crowley had amassed an impressive collection, perfectly matched to an assortment of black gowns. He'd played the widow quite a bit during that era. But he'd bought them all himself. No one had given him any. Certainly <i>Aziraphale</i> hadn't given him any jewelry, ever, let alone a piece of serpent jewelry the Victorians insisted were symbols of eternal love.</p><p>Crowley must have held still for too long, staring, or Aziraphale must have been unable to contain his nervousness, because the next thing Crowley knew Aziraphale was sitting down next to him. Aziraphale plucked the ring from the box and held it out expectantly. It took a second, because Crowley's brain had cooled to sluggishness, but he lifted his left hand. Smiling, Aziraphale delicately slid the snake ring onto Crowley's finger.</p><p>Crowley watched the tiny rubies wink from their gold setting. He looked mutely up at Aziraphale.</p><p>Aziraphale leaned back against the couch. His eyes moved around the shop, from the wine glasses on the table, to the nearest bookshelves, to the cash register, not fully closed. His gaze briefly caught on Crowley's and Crowley felt himself flush just as Aziraphale started to fuss with his own ring, anxiously twisting it on his finger. They were sitting so close together, now, that Aziraphale's thigh nearly brushed Crowley's own.</p><p>"Do you like it?" Aziraphale asked. "You don't… You don't have to."</p><p>"I like it," Crowley said, immediately. He drew his hand against his chest, though he couldn't actually imagine Aziraphale trying to take the ring back even if Crowley had said he'd hated it.</p><p>"Oh, wonderful," Aziraphale said. He smiled and it made his whole face light up. His nose wrinkled, and his eyes got brighter. A choir of angels couldn't have outdone that smile. Crowley never wanted to stop looking at it.</p><p>Crowley considered the ring.</p><p>"Unsurprisingly, storing a ring in a drawer for over a hundred and fifty years does it no favors." Aziraphale shook his head. "The jeweler offered to buy it from me. I told him it was intended as a gift and I wouldn't be selling it unless… Unless, well."</p><p>"I like it," Crowley repeated. No human jeweler would be getting <i>his</i> ring.</p><p>"I'm so pleased." Aziraphale shifted his weight slightly. Now they were sitting so close his thigh did press up against Crowley's.</p><p>And while Crowley might be occasionally cold-serpent sluggish, he did know how to take an opening when it was offered. Eventually.</p><p>Crowley reached over and took Aziraphale's hand in his. Tangled their fingers together, so Aziraphale could feel the press of the snake ring against his hand. Crowley could feel his pulse hammering in his wrist and had to hope that Aziraphale was into clammy hands, since they hadn't touched each other like this in centuries, casual hand-holding having gone out of fashion. If Aziraphale objected to the clammy hands, he at least didn't show it. He bestowed on Crowley another of those shining smiles instead.</p><p>"I never bought you a ring," Crowley said.</p><p>"You've done other things."</p><p>Crowley squeezed his hand. </p><p>"I remember," Aziraphale said, "after Camelot fell. You were there."</p><p>"Mmmph." Crowley cleared his throat. "Camelot at the end was a great way to put a shine on a demon's résumé. Didn't even have to do anything. Just had to be there. I think Beelzebub still has the knight's helmet I brought back tarnishing away in their office."</p><p>"Yes. But then you helped me move my things out. Not the books, of course," Aziraphale said. He squeezed Crowley's hand himself, as Crowley shuddered in remembrance of what medieval-era demonic steeds would do when exposed to Bibles and other holy scripts. "But you carried a bag of clothing all the way to the next city. At the time I thought we were both just heading in the same direction."</p><p>Resisting the urge to squirm, Crowley slid down slightly on the couch. He flicked his eyes away from Aziraphale's. He could miracle his sunglasses back onto his face, but that felt like a dishonest kind of cheating. "We were headed in the same direction," he said, which was a much more honest sort of lie.</p><p>Aziraphale simply looked at him, and squeezed his hand again.</p><p>Crowley exhaled through his teeth. "Traveling with you was leagues better than skulking out with the former Black Knight's gang."</p><p>"I don't think I started to appreciate how often you decided being with me was better than the alternative until… Until I gave you a reason not to," Aziraphale murmured. Crowley risked glancing up and saw that Aziraphale was staring down at the half-filled wine glasses. "Sometime after that terrible argument, that was when I bought the ring."</p><p>"Being around you would've been better than the alternative even after … that," Crowley said, slowly. He did not like thinking about that day by the lake. "It wasn't really that long before we met back up."</p><p>Aziraphale opened his mouth to say something, then made a visible effort to stop. He swallowed and looked back at Crowley, meeting Crowley's unshielded eyes. "You like the ring?" he asked.</p><p>"I like the ring, angel," Crowley said, soft.</p><p>Then, wine still sloshing in his blood and feeling brash from the lack of sunglasses to hide behind, Crowley leaned up and pressed his lips to Aziraphale's. Aziraphale drew in a surprised breath, but then his lips parted, and he kissed back.</p><p>Crowley did like the ring. It was a nice ring. It would pair well with a lot of outfits, and there was a certain level of mischief in the simple gold serpent's expression. But kissing Aziraphale for the first time, on the old soft couch tucked into the heart of the bookshop… that was better than anything a delivery man could bring.</p>
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